


Tequila Makes His Clothes Fall Off

by orphan_account



Series: Tequila Nights [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Drunk Sex, F/M, Fingering, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-05
Updated: 2012-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-04 21:03:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock yet again ruins John's date night, John drunkenly decides to turn to Sherlock (beta'd).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tequila Makes His Clothes Fall Off

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sherlock Kink Meme:  
> http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/19351.html?thread=114422935#t114422935  
> Beta'd by notobvioustome ^-^  
> 

It was three a.m. when John stumbled drunk into the flat, with a petite blonde woman. Carrie, or Cassie, or Cathy, or something like that. Tequila always seemed to annihilate his short term memory. It also tended to make him ridiculously horny at the slightest stimulation. And stimulation, he had- Carrie’s hand halfway down his pants, her mouth on his, the tips of her hair tickling his neck. 

Several hours earlier, John had decided to celebrate a hard week with a night at the bar. He and a few of the guys from work had had a few beers when the blonde woman had approached him, smiling, and pulled him away from his group. Within an hour, against John’s better judgment, she'd charmed her way into 3 rounds of tequila and a cab ride to his place.

The two staggered to the living room, knocking into every table along the way. John felt the couch bump against the back of his calves and let himself fall onto it, giggling when Cassie crawled on top of him. She laughed back and grabbed his hands, placing them on her breasts. He grabbed and teased at them as she clumsily removed her bra, finally moaning when it was off. She began rocking against him, creating a soft friction that hit _just_ the right spot.

Suddenly, the darken room was lit a strange red hue and the quiet was shattered with a loud bang from the kitchen, followed by a truly _foul_ odour. John sighed in frustration, could there be worse timing for this? Cathy jerked and shrieked, staring into the dim red light where the noise had come from. She froze completely, eyes wide, then screamed again and jumped off John, spewing expletives as she put on her shoes and rushed out of the flat.

John rubbed his at his temples and groaned. “Sherlock, what the fuck are you doing?” he griped as he sat up. John immediately saw what had made Cathy react so strongly- Sherlock was in the kitchen in, wearing a black lab apron and goggles. In one hand he held a blowtorch, and in the other he balanced a human skull on the counter.

“Testing the effects of heat on postmortem remains,” Sherlock droned out.

“Could you not have done that in your room? Or tomorrow?"

“The moisture level in my room is insufficient for this experiment," he said, continuing to torch the skull as he spoke, "and I need the results by tomorrow morning.” John swore he could see the hint of a smirk forming in the corner of his mouth.

“Oh you bastard…” A stack of books feel to the floor as he tumbled past the coffeetable and staggered into the kitchen. Sherlock looked up and shut the torch off. He snapped his goggles back to the top of his head. “John, what are you doing? Go to bed,” he said.

“I was just about to bugger that girl. You ruined it,” John whined, feeling unusually forward from the alcohol. Sherlock just stared at him. “Oh, you cheeky bastard. You think this is funny, don’t you, always ruining my dates like this,” John slurred out.

“John, just go to bed. You’re drunk." John didn't move. "Um, sorry about your friend,” Sherlock said. John almost began giggling at such an awkward, halfhearted attempt at an apology, but he was too upset to let it surface. “John, this really isn’t my problem, and I've an experiment to finish. Get out of the kitchen.”

“Not your problem… not your problem… we’ll see about not your problem…” John grumbled as he walked towards Sherlock. Sherlock’s eyes widened and he set the blowtorch on the table. John stood face to face with him, looking up at him with fiery eyes. Sherlock was beginning to brace himself for a punch when John grabbed him roughly and slammed him against the cupboard. 

John and Sherlock stared at each other for a moment. Sherlock, much to John’s pleasant suprise, looked completely baffled. “No, Sherlock, this is _absolutely_ your problem now,” he whispered, then crushed his mouth against his.

The kiss was drunk- sloppy, messy, wet. John’s tongue immediately pushed into Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock tensed for a moment, his tongue drawn back, but then he began to reciprocate, sliding his tongue over John’s, brushing it against lips and gums. John felt a hand ruffle through the short hair at the back of his head. Fingers tightened, pulling his hair roughly, and he moaned into Sherlock’s mouth.

John broke the kiss to begin sucking the skin right above Sherlock’s collarbone. Sherlock seemed sensitive here, already making tiny, desperate jerks with his hips. John's hand slid over his chest and stomach before palming over his bulge, his other hand groping his lovely bum. Sherlock started moaning, and it was so sexy John could hardly believe the sounds were coming from the same man who had just been roasting human bones.

“Oh Sherlock, you- you-“ he growled. Clumsy hands tore off Sherlock’s apron and goggles, tossing them in some indiscriminate corner. John grabbed Sherlock’s arm forcefully and dragged him into the living room. Sherlock fell back onto the couch and grabbed at John's shirt, pulling him down to straddle his hips.

“I’m going to fuck you,” John whispered. Sherlock looked down and licked his lips. _Oooooh, that could be fun._ “But first,” he said, leaning down so he could whisper into Sherlock’s ear, “I’m gonna suck your cock.” Sherlock moaned. “Oh, you’d like that, yeah, smarty?” John whispered, feeling sillier than usual from the tequila. 

“I- I-" Sherlock stuttered, words caught in his throat. _Nothing to say now, huh?_. John thought with a smirk. He unbuttoned Sherlock’s shirt quickly, pausing to stare at his smooth, pale white chest. Slowly, he ran his fingertips down Sherlock's stomach. Right under his navel was a trail of thin, wispy black hairs. John made his way down and began to lick at it messily while unzipping Sherlock’s trousers. 

The trousers slid off easily, leaving Sherlock in nothing but a pair of silky blue pants. John palmed the bulge of his cock through them, relishing Sherlock's soft gasps, before mouthing at it wetly. Sherlock began writhing under him, grabbing at his hair begging him, “Oh John, oh take them off, come on...” John more than happily complied.

Sherlock’s dick was rock-hard and leaking lightly at the tip. John wrapped a hand around the base and started to suck at the slit, savouring the strange taste of precum as Sherlock began to moan and curse somewhat loudly. The tense hand in his hair tightened. John moaned at the sensations around him- cock on his tongue, fingers handling his head roughly- and Sherlock jerked up, forcing more of his cock in his mouth. _Hmmmm..._ He hummed again, making Sherlock call out his name and gasp. _A hummer it is then,_ he thought, and continued to moan heavily around his dick.  


This whole scenario was just so odd, so dirty. John realized that he was achingly hard. He pulled off Sherlock's dick and sat up, eliciting a choked protest from Sherlock. Somewhere, he was pretty sure he put the... _ah._ John smiled happily to himself as he pulled a small bottle of lube from between the couch cushions. He slicked his fingers and was just about to begin teasing when he heard Sherlock’s voice- impossibly low and hoarse- ask, “John, what are you doing with lube in the couch?”

“Well, I was about to shag Charlie, remember? Before you so rudely interrupted, you prat.” The last few words were emphasized by slick fingers pushing apart Sherlock’s legs. “There we go, just put that one up there and this one, yeah like that okay,” he said. Sherlock laid on the couch, one leg straddling the top of the backrest, the other on the floor, giving John the space he needed. Slowly, he brushed his fingertips along Sherlock's hole, tracing the ring of muscle before trailing to the small cleft at his back. His other hand moved to Sherlock's dick. He pulled at it lightly, just enough to distract, as he gently slid his finger in to the first knuckle. Still, Sherlock tensed against him. John cringed and froze, To be honest, he wasn't quite confident about doing this at all. He hoped treating him a tad rougher than a woman would suffice. After a moment, he worked his finger in and out slowly, loosening Sherlock until he felt confident that he was relaxed enough for two.

Sherlock was breathing heavily. He didn't seem to be in any pain, but he sure didn't seem nearly as hot and bothered as before. John racked his brain, thinking of how he could help Sherlock enjoy this a bit more. _I know there's a gland... something we learned in med school... and-_ he ginned widely when he remembered. Quickly, he set to work finding Sherlock's prostate, crooking his fingers here and there. The alcohol had definitely impaired his coordination, and it was taking an embarrassingly long time to locate. He was beginning to think maybe he should ask Sherlock for help when he tightened around his fingers, gasping and grabbing John's shoulders. “Ohh fuck John, there, more…” John sighed in relief and rubbed at the spot with his thrusts. When finally he added a third finger, Sherlock was moaning shamelessly.

John stood up and undid his trousers and pants as quickly as he could. He grabbed Sherlock's thighs and dragged him to the edge of the couch, legs in the air, supported by John’s hands. The room was silent but for their rushed breathing. John took a steadying breath through his nose and lined his cock against Sherlock’s entrance, then looked at Sherlock and asked, “Okay?” Sherlock nodded. John pushed in slowly and both men gasped. When he was completely inside- and _holy fuck_ was Sherlock tight, he just wanted to fuck him silly, _Christ_ \- he paused a long moment to let Sherlock adjust. He was about to wait a bit more when Sherlock groaned, “John, move.”

And he did. Slowly, he pulled out and pushed back in. His eyes rolled back as he relished the sensation of unreal heat, tightness, and lubed-up wetness. Sherlock’s thick voice pulled him out of his trance. “John, John, come on.” John snapped out of his trance and repeated the fucking motion, a bit harder this time. The effect was palpable. Sherlock gasped and jerked his hips into the air. John, encouraged, worked up a quicker, rougher pace.  


After a few blissful minutes John felt his stomach stirring. _Shit._ He considered pulling out a moment, or pressing the base of his cock enough to last Sherlock; but judging from Sherlock’s desperate, garbled moans, he wasn’t alone. He thrust hard, aiming for Sherlock’s prostate as best he could. Sherlock seemed so close, his white knuckles gripping desperately at the couch cushion. John licked the back of his knee and grabbed both of Sherlock’s legs with his arm, snaking his other hand to pull at Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock came with a few strokes, shouting, moaning, calling out John’s name as his cum splattered onto both of their stomachs. John choked back a harsh groan as Sherlock tightened around him. The new sensation was all it took to send John soaring, his face contorting into a mask of pleasure as he released inside of Sherlock.

They remained still for a moment before John pulled gently out of Sherlock. His eyelids felt suddenly ridiculously heavy and he lowered himself to the floor as gracefully as he could manage. Whatever it was that had just happened, whatever sort of relationship they might have to talk about tomorrow, well that was for tomorrow, he decided as he closed his eyes. As he passed into sleep, he vaguely noted that he was being carried into his room and tucked into his bed, but he was far too tired to think about that now.

**Author's Note:**

> If you leave advice or comments, I will luff you 5ever! <3  
> Also, a million bagillion thanks to notobvioustome for beta-ing this!  
> ^-^


End file.
